MY MOTHER’S DEATH
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:30pm
My Mother’s Death is sewed up
in that wretched little town —
I don’t have to live there any-more —
Her House is sold with The Shower of Lights
fixed in a poem
I’ll never set foot again
inside that sordid little hospital
where She was stationed for over a year
& where She Evaporated Into Thin Air
on A Saturday Night
twenty years ago
I like that you sew up towns and fix things into poems.
Thank you, Shrinksaren’tcheap — I wonder if they’re the only ways I can deal with anything bad. Thank you so much for commenting.